Flight of Death
by fallenfaeangel
Summary: Azrael is Death and is assigned to deal with Voldemort's killing streak. Things spiral out of control once she is exposed, for only Death can love such evil. Voldemort/OC Rating will likely go up.
1. Prologue

This is my first shot at a Harry Potter fanfiction. As much as a love Bellatrix, she is supposed to be married and she can't live forever, so another has to try and fight her way into Voldemort's heart. This story does not reflect my personal beliefs, nor is it meant to offend anyone of theirs. I only state this since I am dealing with death and thus, religion in a sense. I try to say they are all correct, essentially. Please…Enjoy!

FLIGHT OF DEATH FLIGHT OF DEATH FLIGHT OF DEATH FLIGHT OF DEATH FLIGHT OF DEATH

This is the story of me….and, well, some others who are obviously not me. Like this next girl. She is NOT me. No, I am much more complicated than her, but a story has to start somewhere, right? So let's just follow her pitiful life for a bit.

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>Margret sat down at the table, placing her wand to her right. She had just come home from visiting her muggle parents, and even after all of these years they still didn't understand her magic. She looked around at her refugee family. They were all wanted, from squibs to pureblood traitors. She smiled at one of the woman who poured her tea before sipping it happily.<p>

Then…then everything broke into chaos. People screamed as the feared men and woman in masks threw there wretched spells and people dropped. Margret tried to get out of the way until all she saw was green and then she was met with silence.

Margret slowly got up from the floor. Where everything was once chaos, was now in perfect order. She looked around nervous, "Hello?" She hollered out in the emptiness. She walked around the immediate area of the house and didn't spot one thing she saw before she passed out. No dead bodies, no destruction, no blood, no anything. She sat down at the table she had sat down before everything.

"What happened last? Ok, everything was peaceful, then chaos, a flash of green, and then…..am I dead?" She asked into the air. A female figure in a black robe, a scythe, and black feathered wings materialized before her.

"You are dead. Yes. Took you long enough." A musical and haunting voice stated. Margret looked up at her in fear from her seat.

"I can't be dead! I felt no pain, nothing." Margret said in a firm voice. A haunting laugh that was both a thousand bells and a thousand screams came from the woman before her.

"Yeah, you're still dead. That spell kills you faster than you can feel pain." The woman stated amused.

"This is your fault! If you weren't here then I could return! Go! Leave!" Margret said in a venomous tone. The hooded figure before her just shook her head no.

"If I do that then you are left in limbo. Believe me, it sucks." The woman said with a sigh. Margret looked frustrated.

"Well, can't you take someone else's soul and put me back in my body? Hell! If you can't do that put me in theirs! No one has to no!" Margret said trying to bargain her way back to life. The woman just shook her head no.

"Sorry, doesn't work that way. Your time came, your soul is expected." She said explaining.

"Why me? I did everything to be kind and caring. Why not a Death Eater? They deserve death. Why me?" Margret said, repeating the last question again and again.

"You think they deserve death, they think you deserve it. People need to die, it truly doesn't matter why." The woman said like it was said a thousand or more times before. Well, it actually had been, but Margret didn't know that.

"Fine, what now? Who are you anyway?" Margret asked. The woman gave her disturbing laugh again.

"I have many names; I am also one of many. You can call me a Grim Reaper, Death, or you can just call me Azrael. Now come on Margret, the afterlife awaits you." Azrael said and she banged her scythe on the ground. A large portal that was an electric blue opened up and Margret gave a nervous smile and stepped through before the portal closed behind her. Azrael looked around before fading into smoke.

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Well, now you know who I am. I am death. I am the Grim Reaper, the Ferryman of the River of Styx, the angel of death, Hades, Osiris, but I personally like Azrael. I am one of many who hold those titles across the globe, and chose one of the names I liked the most. I used to be a living being, but that was long ago. The wizarding war was racking up the death toll and I was assigned to do that alone. I never realized what my next assignment was going to be. Voldemort needed someone to take care of just who he personally kills. Well, at least I will have a steady job.


	2. A Bad Day To Be Exposed

AN: I made up the 'Kato Box' and a few other things…then again, it's a story. Some of my Death theories are myth, some are from shows like Dead Like Me, and some I am just making up as I go along. Enjoy!

Hi! Azrael here! My life as a Grim Reaper is tedious. I am in the section dedicated to Magic Related Deaths. I wish I was in the murder/suicide section; they get some really interesting deaths. Me? I get people dropping with a flash of green. Though every once in a while they are killed with some interesting spells with blood, gore, and truly some real creativity. I mean, one time I found a man dead because his limbs turned into snakes and they kept on striking him. Oh! And another time a guy fell apart into a swarm of butterflies. A beautiful death but a pain to grab the soul from.

FLIGHT OF DEATH FLIGHT OF DEATH FLIGHT OF DEATH

A cloaked figure pushed back her hood as she sat down tiredly at a large table. In the other form of this table a Death Eater Meeting is happening, in the afterlife it is barren. The woman pulled her hair forward to fix it, easily touching the ground from her position as it fell in straight black sheets. She sighed and left her hair pulled forward, pulling up her hood, and dragging herself to her feet. She pulled out a thin black book from a hidden pocket in her robe and flipped through it with long, black pointed nails. She stopped at the book-marked spot. "10:07 pm, Thursday the 23 of February, 1989. Name: A.J. Marqui…hm, I am going to guess male…though it could be female. Ugh, who knows these days." She muttered. She slid the book back into her pocket and grabbed her scythe from the edge of the table, her black wings ruffling to fix the few feathers that weren't cooperating. Satisfied with her image she walked around the table, looking at the people only she could see that were living. All had potential to die; the real question is what one.

She stopped in front of each and every one. She stopped behind a man with long blonde hair. "Are you A.J.? No…you look too confident to be getting killed. Hm…" She walked around more until she found a man robed like the others with his mask of, twitching now and again. There was another twitchy man around, but he seemed like that was a normal occurrence. This man was glancing nervously to the rest of the group and back at the snake-like leader. "I think it will be you…" She said to herself and leaned against the table to put her mark on his forehead, a curvy A that came out like it was drawn in blood. This made sure that his soul would go to her. She pulled out an ornate metal pocket watch that was such a deep blue it was black and checked the time, 8:56pm

"Dammit, I thought it was an hour later..." She muttered annoyed. She sat at an empty seat and leaned back in it bored. Today was not her day.

You see, normally Azrael would be out and taking care of the normal killings and not at a meeting. As luck would have it, her boss wanted her to take care of all deaths related closely to Voldemort. She had been watching him for a while now, mostly doing the jobs around him because that is where most of the deaths happened. Azrael decided that if it wasn't for his lack of a nose, hair, and skin color he could be quite attractive. She did love his personality. He knew what he wanted and had a plan to achieve it. She could admire that. Anyway, enough talk, more action.

The man dubbed A.J. had been thrown on the floor before the dark lord and was kissing his robes desperately, shaking. Some questions were asked to the man which he answered, stumbling over his words. Voldemort looked at him and searched his memories before grabbing a small box and placing it before the man.

"Open it." He ordered and the man looked at him in fear before shuffling forward on his knees to reach it. He tentatively open the box before he soul was sucked out and trapped in the box.

"Shit…." Azrael said staring at the box. She recognized what the box was, the Kato box. It traps the soul until someone opens the gasket-style jewel on top and can pull the soul out for their own use. For a Grim Reaper, it means a soul they need to figure out how to get back. Azrael walked over the box and tried opening it. "Not good." She muttered when it wouldn't budge. Once again, today was not her day.

A soul can't do anything to the box, wouldn't do much good she guessed if a soul could open the box and get out. There were protocols for this. It was better for people to see her than lose a soul. She personally didn't think the soul was worth it, but those were the rules. She took a deep breath and made sure her hair was falling correctly still.

She walked behind Voldemort as she checked to make sure she had her hood pulled up high enough that her features were covered by dark shadows. Once she got behind his seated position she spread her wings out and held her scythe out in an intimidating manor before phasing into reality behind him, the black smoke that followed the transition really added to the menacing effect. Gasps came from all around the table as there chairs were pushed back rapidly falling over, their wands drawn. Voldemort stood up and whipped around.

"The soul was marked. It is mine." Azrael said, her voice beautiful and haunting at the same time.

Voldemort scowled at her, "And now its mine." He said in a smug tone. Before raising his wand, "Avada kedavra!" He said smugly as the light struck her chest. It dissipated into her body, briefly lighting up her face to see her features. It made her all the more haunting.

She laughed her laughs of a thousand screams and bells and Voldemort had a brief look of confusion before anger replaced it.

"How do you live? Who are you?" He demanded. Azrael tilted her head and carefully walked forward to make it look like she was gliding. It was a pain for her to do, but it was worth the effect.

"I live because of who I am. You can't kill Death." Azrael said as she stopped in front of the box without drawing the attention of the others to her reason for walking. She was just a few steps from Voldemort now. He looked at her looking vaguely in confusion and anger. Then it seemed to dawn on him that she was THE death. He tried casting numerous other spells on her as she knelt down and tried opening the jewel on the box….and failed. So much for looking elegant and all-knowing. She looked back at Voldemort before standing and slamming the butt of her scythe down. Before her stood a 22 year-old Tom Riddle, still called Voldemort of course. A collective gasp went around as he examined what he could of his new body.

"There, much easier on the eyes." She said before kneeling down again. Finally the jewel spun up and the blue wisp of the soul escaped and passed into the spirit realm. The much more dashing Voldemort glared at her.

"That soul was mine…and so was the body you just changed." He said before trying another spell. This one was a deep purple that was once again absorbed.

"Pretty. You see, the problem with your body was that it was creepy. I just made you back to the very attractive you. Much better. Who knows, maybe you will win more supporters with that look. The soul though….sorry, grab one that isn't marked next time. Though that isn't likely. See, I'll show you." Azrael speeled before take the few extra steps and pulling out her book. Her black pointed nails opened to the page and showed it to him.

"See? A.J. Marqui, 10:07 pm on the 23rd. Marked at 8:56 pm. His soul was marked before you decided to even kill him. Sorry. No claim." She said as Voldemort looked at her book seriously.

"You know who is going to die before anyone else does?" He asked looking at her in a dementedly eager way.

Azrael casually stepped back, "I only know the ones of my section. I'll see you around." She said before crossing over to the spirit world. The room was empty except for A.J. sitting there, trying in vain to cast spells. Magic doesn't cross over, the only one with power are the ones who are granted it.

"Are you Death?" He asked after looking at her before trying another spell.

"Yup. You're dead. Normally I would walk you through this, but I am having a horrible day. So let's hurry it up and get you moving on to the next life." Azrael said before opening a door for him to follow through. The man stopped and got up from his seat and trailed after.

"Am I going to hell?" He asked and Azrael laughed.

"Don't flatter yourself, you're not that interesting. I don't know where you are going though, up down left right. You cross the border and your guess as good as mine." She said and he look annoyed.

"Is there even a hell?" He asked. Azrael looked at him from the side, though he couldn't tell from the shadows covering her face still.

"There is and there isn't, it all is up to you." She said and banged her scythe down and a portal opened at the end of the hallway. "If there is, try to get on the devil's good side." Azrael recommended before shoving A.J. through when he hesitated. The portal closed and Azrael sighed. "I wonder if Lucifer still has a bar down there…I could really go for a demon-made drink…" Azrael said before disappearing in a puff of black smoke.

Its me, Azrael….this day, well, sucked -hic. Stupid karma -hic-at least I shaw a hot ass Voldemort -hic . If you wanna shnow a real bad- hic- day, then…. Ner'mind -hic- Lucifer, poor me another drink –hic!


End file.
